


A Light in the Dark

by icandrawamoth



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [20]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Blindness, Holding Hands, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 03:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13802400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: “Tycho?” Wes hates the way his voice shakes. “What's going on? I can't – I can't see.”





	A Light in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> For February Ficlet Challenge prompt "trapped in the dark."

Wes wakes with his head aching, a groan slipping from his mouth as he opens his eyes – and is greeted by a wall of darkness. He blinks, trying to remember where he is even as his heart begins to race. This isn't his bed. The covers are too hard and scratchy, and the air smells weirdly antiseptic. There are noises coming from around him in the darkness, footsteps and distant voices and the soft whir of machines. His hand flails for a light switch even as he knows in the back of his mind that's not the problem.

He flinches as his hand is caught by another instead. “Wes. Hey. You're awake.”

“Tycho?” He hates the way his voice shakes. “What's going on? I can't – I can't see.”

“It's all right. Try and stay calm, okay?” A thumb strokes his hand, but he can hear the barest tremor in Tycho's voice as well, and it only makes him more anxious.

“I don't understand.” Wes's voice edges toward a whimper, threatening to break.

“There was an accident,” Tycho tells him, the words dissonantly soft and soothing. “You hit your head. The medic said you might have trouble remembering. And that you might...not be able to see when you woke up. But it's temporary, you understand?”

Wes tries to breath evenly, to contain his panic even as he keeps blinking reflexively, as if that will bring his vision back faster. “Promise?” is the word that leaks out of his mouth, tiny and pleading.

“I promise,” Tycho says firmly, and Wes flinches as a hand lands on the side of his face without warning, but he leans into the warm, comforting contact. “I can go and get the medic and have her-”

“No!” Wes clutches at his hand before he can move. “Don't leave. I don't – please don't leave me alone like this.”

“Shh, okay, okay, I won't.” He hears a squeaking sound, maybe Tycho shifting on his chair as he leans in. The fingers on his cheek move, caress lightly. “Don't be afraid, Wes. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere until you're better.”

That does ease the tightness in his chest a bit. Wes closes his eyes – it's a little less disconcerting that way, as if he's made the choice not to see – and nods. “What happened?” he asks quietly.

Tycho's movements pause, then continue their gentle ministrations. “You know how I've always told you your antics were going to get you in trouble someday?” He laughs softly, and there's only the bare edge of a tremor in it. “Let's just say doing balancing acts in high places is not impressive when it ends in the medbay.”

“How long will I be like this?” Wes wants to know next, already shivering at the thought of being trapped in the dark for any amount of time. His mind trundles along without his consent, considers a dark road, a permanent future without his sight. He won't be able to fly or fight – kriff, he won't even be able to walk around the base on his own.

“The medic wasn't sure,” Tycho tells him. “She said it could be anywhere from a few hours to a week or more. Now that you're awake, she can take a look and get a better idea.” He pauses, squeezes Wes's hand. “Please let me get her. I'll only be gone for a moment, and I'd feel much better knowing exactly what's going on with you.”

Wes takes a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.” He manages to bite back the _please hurry_ he wants to add. Tycho squeezes his hand and there's a surprise kiss on Wes's forehead before he's gone and Wes is left terrifyingly adrift. He squeezes his eyes closed again, hands twisting in the sheets as if to ground himself.

Tycho is true to his word, though, and only moments later, he's back, hand sliding into Wes's again as the medic's gentle voice comes to his ears, asking questions and speaking reassurances as she gently probes his injuries and runs a humming scanner over him. All the while Tycho is there, a warm, steady presence by his side even though Wes can't see him. He thinks with gratitude how much more terrifying this whole thing would be if he was alone.

The medic's final prognosis is that he should have his sight back within the day, or a few at most, as soon as the bruising and swelling in his head have gone down. Wes swallows with relief and thanks her, then she's leaving him with a couple of painkillers and a glass of water, which Tycho helps him take as soon as she's gone.

They lapse into silence for a while after that until Tycho breaks it by saying softly, “You really had me worried there for a minute. When you fell and I saw you laying there-” He swallows with difficulty, and Wes feels a sudden wave of guilt.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, squeezing Tycho's hand. “I never meant to do that to you.”

He hears Tycho shake his head. “It doesn't matter. You're going to be fine. And you're never going to do anything that stupid ever again.”

“I promise,” Wes says solemnly.

Exactly twelve hours later, Wes wakes from a nap, hand still twined with his lover's, and the first thing he sees with his newly restored, albeit still blurry, vision is Tycho slumped forward in his chair, resting his head on his free arm on the edge of the bed as he sleeps. Riding a wave of relief, Wes smiles as he watches him for a long moment, then touches him gently to wake him and share the good news.


End file.
